


Next To The Last Romantic

by PepperF



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Silly, really - Freeform, very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff has a serious marriage problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next To The Last Romantic

**Author's Note:**

> From [this prompt](http://sweetdeansaremadeofthese.tumblr.com/post/125780466890/i-want-to-write-a-fic-where-jeff-tries-to) by [sweetdeansaremadeofthese](http://sweetdeansaremadeofthese.tumblr.com/), with kind permission.
> 
> Thanks very much to bethanyactually for, like, not suggesting I have a lie down in a darkened room until it all goes away! ;)

_"You know, I've been divorced seven times? Sometimes I think I'm doing something wrong."_

_"You keep getting married."_

_"I never looked at it that way."_

\---

"You're the only one who really gets me," slurs Jeff, leaning in towards Shirley. "So 'f you think about it, iss the only rash'nal sosu solmu solut... iss a good idea."

"Jeffrey, you're drunk," says Shirley, wearily.

"No! Well, yesh, I am, but thas notimportant. The thing is, the thing is, the THING IS, we're like this." He holds his hand in front of his face and makes several attempts to cross his fingers. Eventually he has to use the other hand to do it, and holds them up triumphantly. "See! Like this."

"No, Jeff," says Shirley. "I've already got a husband, for better or worse – and this would definitely be worse. I don't know why you're suddenly so dead set on marrying me, but—"

"Because you GET me," says Jeff, insistently. "You – you GET me. You get me?"

"Not really," says Shirley, dryly.

"Yeahyoudo," says Jeff, confidently. "An – an thass it. B'cause thas it, right? That's the thing. The thing. What pe-pepl are lookin' for. Right? The person who gets them. An you get me. So less doit. Tonight. Less get married!"

Shirley sighs. "That's almost sweet, Jeffrey," she says, steering his arms away when he tries to put them around her. "So sweet that I might even consider not bringing this up when you're massively hungover tomorrow."

"Y're all wom'n, Shirley," he mutters, sinking down so he's almost parallel to the floor. "Yr amazin, an smart, an sexy, an Andre's an ijot."

He goes limp against her, and Shirley pats his head gently. "You and he have that in common, at least," she agrees.

Jeff starts to snore.

\---

"Uh," says Troy. "Wow. I don't know what to say, Jeff." He pauses, and thinks about it. "No, I really don't know what to say."

"I mean, it'd be a civil union, really – _civil_ being the operative word. And then if anything were to happen to you, while you're—" Jeff gives a vague wave that presumably encompasses 'sailing around the world in order to accomplish the terms of Pierce's will and inherit all his money', "then you'll have someone who can, _legally_ , help you out of quite a few tricky situations, such as sudden illnesses in foreign countries, or problems back here with Pierce's estate. And if the worst were to happen, I could take your claim to court. Your death while fulfilling the terms of the bequest would pretty much guarantee a win, and then I could ensure the others were provided for, as I'm sure you would want. Abed would want for nothing," he adds, persuasively.

"This isn't you trying to get half of my money, is it?" says Troy, suspiciously. 

Jeff puts a hand to his heart. "I am _hurt_ , Troy," he says. "I can't believe you would still think that about me. Sure, once upon a time, that would have been my first thought, but do all these years of growth, of striving and failing and rising again, of slow death by a thousand tiny humiliations, tearing me down and rebuilding me into a new Jeff – a better Jeff... does all that mean nothing to you?"

"Aw, I'm sorry, man," says Troy. "I don't know what—"

"No, no," says Jeff, holding up a hand and closing his eyes. "Don't say another word. Let's just do this and get it over with."

"Oka....hey! You're doing the thing again, Jeff." He glares at Jeff until Jeff looks down and grimaces, with a shrug.

"Oh well. Can't blame a guy for trying, right?"

"Yes, Jeff! Yes, I can!"

"I really would have made sure the others were looked after, if you died," says Jeff, earnestly.

"Great! Then you can help me write a will to make sure that happens," says Troy, hotly. "And if I do die, you can take Pierce's estate to court, like you said, and win it for them."

"Of course," says Jeff, quickly. "No problem. I'll make it airtight."

"Good." 

Jeff starts to stride quickly away, but is stopped by Troy's voice. 

"Jeff?" 

Jeff glances back.

"You know you'd get a fifth of it, right? If anything happened to me, I mean. You didn't need to do all this. You're one-fifth of my best friends – no marriage necessary."

Jeff gives him a smile that's a little insecure, a little concerned, a little relieved, and a little mocking. "Civil union," he corrects, and turns away before Troy can get in an epic eye-roll.

\---

"Please, Annie!"

Annie shakes her head and starts to walk rapidly away, and Jeff shuffles after her, going surprisingly fast for a man on his knees.

"Please! I'm going to fail this exam, and this is the only excuse the professor will—"

"No, Jeff! I told you, you're just going to have to find another way!" She refuses to even look back in his direction.

"But it'd just be for a week – two, tops!"

"No!" says Annie, shrilly.

"Look, I'm on my knees, begging you! Can you really let me down when I'm this desperate?"

She glances back at last, and he puts on his most puppyish expression.

"C'mon, Annie," he says, dropping his voice a little. His eyes are clear, boyish, and he tilts his head, giving her a crooked grin, the kind of smile he reserves just for her. "Just you and me... whaddaya say?"

For a second she softens – and then she snaps upright and clutches the straps of her backpack. "No! No. Don't even try that. You are a bad, bad man," she tells him, and scurries out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Jeff slumps to the ground. "Plan B it is, then," he says to himself. "Cramming six weeks of study into one night of catching up... No problem." He scrubs a hand over his face.

\---

It takes three of them (Shirley, Annie, and Pierce) to tackle Jeff, and two (Troy and Britta) to tackle Abed.

"Let me up!" says Jeff, a manic light in his eyes. Pierce is sitting on his back, but he still struggles. "It's the only thing that makes sense!"

"I have to go through with this!" insists Abed, trying to wriggle free from Troy's grip. Britta tightens her grip around his legs. "Jeff!" He reaches out a dramatic hand towards Jeff. None of the others quite know what set Jeff and Abed off, but apparently this marriage is a matter of religious/spiritual/moral equality, constitutional freedom, human rights, and the slow heat death of the universe.

Jeff renews his struggles, and it takes both Shirley and Annie sitting on him as well to subdue him. "Ow," he puffs, in a more normal tone. "Shit, guys… I can't breathe."

"Oh, you'll do," says Shirley, grimly.

"Abed? Abed?" Troy shakes Abed slightly, but his friend has gone rigid, with the thousand-yard stare that is his specialty. "Jeff, what did you do? You've broken Abed!"

"It's your… fault!" pants Jeff. "Let me… GO!"

Shirley and Annie exchange a glance, and Shirley nods. Annie lets go of Jeff's ankles and goes quickly to check on Abed, while Shirley shifts quickly to ensure Jeff can't get up.

"Abed?" says Annie, their resident first-aid expert. "Can you hear me? Are you hurt?"

His gaze remains locked, and she exchanges a worried glance with Troy. "At any point, was his breathing restricted?" asks Annie.

"No! I'd never hurt Abed," says Troy, getting a little teary. His grip loosens – and in a flash, Abed is free, and diving forward to shove Pierce to the floor.

"Hey!"

"Stop!"

But with a whoop, Jeff is up too, grabbing Abed's hand, and they hurtle towards freedom down the corridors of Greendale Community College, their five friends in hot pursuit.

\---

"Everybody loves me, baby, what's the matter with you?" sings Jeff, loudly and off-key. Okay, Britta isn't sure what key it should be in, or how you go about finding the right one, but that caterwaul definitely can't be right. "Won't you tell me what did I do... to offennnnnnnnnnd you?"

"Where d'you want me to start?" she yells.

"Britta! Britta, get down here!"

"SHUT UP!" yells her asshole neighbor.

"No, Jeff! I'm asleep!"

"You're not asleep! You're talking to me!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Get down here right now, Britta Perry! I have an important question to ask!"

Britta rolls her eyes. Not again. "God, Jeff, you better not be planning on asking me to marry you again!"

"IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP, I'M CALLING THE COPS!"

"You shut up!" she growls back, and slams her window closed, stomping her feet into ratty slippers and stomping out the door and stomping down the stairs of the building. 

"What?" she snaps, once she's face to face with Jeff, who is leaning on the pillar at the bottom of the steps. In answer, he drops to one knee. "Ugh," she groans. "Jeff, _seriously_ , you have a problem that could easily be resolved by years of intensive therapy—"

"Britta Perry, will you marry m—"

"No, Jeff! No. For, like, the tenth time, I'm not going to marry you, you jagoff. What is it this time? Are you drunk?"

"Kinda," he admits.

Yeah, she'd guessed that from the way he's swaying unsteadily. "Is this about Annie and Abed?" she asks shrewdly. They've been gone a week – but honestly, he's always having some kind of meltdown about something, and she can't keep track of his major malfunctions. Alcoholism, depression, general woes about his career…

Jeff looks down at the stone steps. "Everyone's gonna leave me," he says, sadly. And oh, she can stand anything but sad, pathetic Jeff. 

"Come on," she says, and grabs the back of his coat, encouraging him to his feet. She guides his weaving steps into the building. "Noam threw up on the pull-out," she tells him, as she helps him up the stairs. "If I let you share Annie's bed with me, will you behave?"

"Scouts honor," he says, throwing a sloppy salute that bears no resemblance to anything the Boy Scouts of America would do. He nudges her with his shoulder, and gives her a smirk. "But for old times' sake, wanna—"

"Finish that sentence and die, Winger," she growls.

For the record, he's a perfect gentleman all night.

\---

Jeff rushes into the study room in a panic. "Guys, I swear this is the last time, but I need someone to—"

Pierce – the only one in the room – looks up enquiringly from his lunch. Jeff stops short. He raises a finger and opens his mouth... and closes it again, shaking his head.

"No. You know what? I'd rather do the time."

He departs in a hurry, looking behind him as if fearing pursuit. Pierce shrugs and goes back to eating his tuna roll.

\---

_And that one time..._

Jeff is the most reluctant bridegroom in the history of weddings. It's not so much his vocal expressions of disgust ("God, can we just get this over with? Please? And stop - just stop - stop touching me!"), but his whole demeanor, from the frown permanently etched on his face, to his hunched shoulders (that draw in every time a flower or a bit of ribbon is thrust under his nose), all the way down to his dragging feet.

It's in sharp contrast to the dean, who is - for want of a better word - glowing.

"Do you think the corsage is too much?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh Jeffrey, don't be a sulky-boots."

Jeff exhales a long-suffering sigh. "Is all this really necessary?" he asks, for the umpteenth time. "I mean, there has to be a better way—"

" _Deported_ to _Canada_ ," says the dean, dramatically. Jeff throws his head back and rolls his eyes so hard that it's lucky he doesn't strain something. "And I mean, I always loved Due South, but Jeffrey, think of the school! How can I possibly leave you - I mean, leave _it_ at this crucial stage?"

"It's summer," argues Jeff. "It's never actually going to be quieter."

" _Crucial stage._ "

" _Ugh._ "

The dean is, of course, turning this whole thing into a production. There are so many costumes that they could put on their own musical (in fact, Jeff is pretty sure that most of them come from last year's glee club production of Meet Me In St Louis - aside from the outfit Garrett is wearing, which is definitely from Les Mis). Jeff can't quite figure out when or why he agreed to this, or whether the blackmail material that Craig already held on him was actually worse than the blackmail potential coming out of this whole scenario, but if they could just _get on with it already_...

"Right, I'm ready!" says the dean, brightly, and emerges from behind his screen at last. "What d'you think?"

Jeff stares. Somewhere underneath all the sequins, the fur fabric, the chiffon, the feathers, the makeup, and the surprisingly tasteful pantsuit, is the dean. "...Astounding," he says, honestly.

The dean simpers, and gives a twirl. Then he grabs Jeff's arm. "Okay," he declares, breathlessly. "Let's go get married!"


End file.
